


seeing the beauty through the pain

by Canthre



Series: Bartimaeus works [2]
Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Gen, M/M, just a casual day for the trash otp, lookout for occasional mention of torture, lots of short oneshots, some more shippy than the others, you'll find lots of gen here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 04:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13046073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canthre/pseuds/Canthre
Summary: Memories are like shards of a shattered mirror. Each shard is as beautiful as it is sharp.





	1. Broomstick

**Author's Note:**

> work title from 'Believer' by Imagine Dragons

 

Heat spreaded fast over Karnak’s great halls. The month of growth was in zenith and the temperatures were unusually high. Maybe the sun god, Ra, wanted to voice his displeasure in the earthly doings of his high priests. Or maybe Khaba was simply unused to open spaces after years of meticulous studies in temple’s stellars. Whatever the reason the rising sun was slowly making him nauseous, feeling like a fish caught in net spreaded across the Nile.

‘Less thinking, more working, boy!’ a reprimand came from Khaba’s left. An elderly, bony priest emerged from the shadows and scowled at the young acolyte. ‘I heard you were appointed to sweep the temple squares ‘til evening. Better start soon,’ the priests looked pointedly at the broom, lying unused on dusty pavement, ‘or Lord Weneg will make you _wash_ them, too, and until the very day of your passing.’ With that last piece of wisdom the priest retreated into temple’s chilly halls.

Khaba slowly bent to retrieve the broom. A deep scowl decorated his pale face. Why did he take up that idiot Weneg’s challenge, anyway? It was vastly unfair, too! Khaba _won_ the challenge – he summoned a spirit from each rank, he commanded them with ease – and then what? In fury, the high priest of Ra with all his entourage, had send him out here to work like a common servant and told him to squash his bratty ambitions. Stunning ingratitude. With reluctance Khaba sweeped the first corner. This was going to be a _long_ day.

Though the marid he summoned _did_ have interesting ideas for the problem of Weneg.

 


	2. Home

 

‘You’re unusually silent,’ Khaba remarked, his sight never leaving the horizon.

The black cat sitting in front of the priest’s saddle turned to look up at him. It’s eyes were deep and dark and strangely distant.

‘I have never been so far in the desert,’ came the cats answer. ‘And I find the void compelling.’

Again silence fell between them. The entourage from Karnak left them two days ago, and Khaba was travelling alone – save for his companion, that is. Their journey would most likely last at least a week. Khaba wasn’t in a hurry – Memphis could wait.

‘It reminds me of home,’ the cats voice was so soft that he almost missed it.

Later that night, when the starry skies spreaded above them in eternal dance of light and darkness, Khaba drew the now black jackal closer to himself. With nothing but the desert wind song around them the priest felt at home.

 


	3. Lust

 

Many called Khaba cruel, but he himself didn’t think so. Either he was giving his slaves what was due – or he was working on _understanding_. The satisfaction, the pleasure of observing pain came much later. Besides, he enjoyed his own pain more, so much more. The pulsating pain of bruises on his arms and stinging of scratches on his back combined into white hot waves coming through him, making him tremble like a zither’s string…

To Ammet pain was the constant, the daily routine of life outside the Other Place. At some point during his service in Abydos he found pain to be _liberating_. And when the screams of his victims echoed through the deep tombs he found that _satisfactory_. But all that was a shadow of actual _pleasure_ he found at Khaba’s side.

 


	4. Gift

 

‘Yes’

‘No’

‘Yes’

‘No’

‘No’

‘Ye- argh! _No_ , Ammet.’

Khaba could sense his companion’s pout from behind him. It was strange, in a way – expression wasn’t something you expected your shadow to be good at.

Truth to be told, Ammet wasn’t doing the best job as a shadow. Oh, he tried, Khaba knew that. And since Ammet’s strange sense of how a shadow should act seemed to unnerve all other priests Khaba decided not to correct this. Just yesterday a flock of young acolytes flew in terror from the temple library after seeing the shadowy form catching and devouring an imp.

Still, however useful and pleasant he found Ammet’s companionship, he certainly wasn’t going to agree to all of demon’s suggestions. Admittedly, the marid knew him well and had a vast knowledge of techniques practiced since the very first dynasties – it turned out that the Osiris Box was indeed invented by Queen Hetepheres – but… A slight touch at his neck disturbed Khaba’s thought.

‘If you do not agree to my idea’ Ammet whispered softly into his ear. ‘Maybe you will at least allow me to tell you of all the possibilities? Some secrets I have not yet told you.’

‘Hm.’

Khaba purposefully ignored all of Ammet’s words. No, he couldn’t make the move just yet – Weneg still had much power – and even if he succeeded there was still the old priestess Neferure – and he still wasn’t sure if all the fuss would be even worth it –

‘Dear master, you should retire to your chambers’ another whisper, but this time Ammet’s tone has changed. Now it was gentle, with a suggestion of worry. ‘The sun is high – but down in the workrooms I have stored a gift for you.’ Khaba’s interest piqued at this.

‘What kind of a gift?’

‘You shall love its usefulness in your studies on anatomy.’

Admittedly, the marid knew him very well.

 


	5. Coffee shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a ficlet collection without a coffee shop AU...?

‘Can I take your order?’ 

The voice startled Ammet from his daydream – a very pleasant one, full of amazingly accurate shower of meteors falling down on his boss – and reminded him of his tight schedule. Ammet grimaced, suddenly aware of the time passing. Gods, he needed coffee to make it to the end of the day… He looked up to the waiter patiently waiting by his side to finally place that order on the double espres- oh, almighty powers of the void. ‘Hi,’ he finally worked out weakly. 

‘Hello,’ the waiter replied with a hint of displeasure, ‘So how about that order of yours…?’

‘Oh,’ Ammet said, ‘Yeah, I’d like to… Uh, I mean, I’d like a double espresso,’ and because his mouth apparently worked on its own, ‘Could you also make it as sweet as yourself?’

Ammet wanted to run the moment the words left his mouth; or better yet, to bury himself six feet under to avoid returning to work at the same time – yeah, that sounded nice. In the meantime… Well, the waiter raised his eyebrow but wrote down Ammet’s order. Damn, he really looked nice with his eyebrow raised like that, elegantly scorning and all that. 

‘White sugar or brown sugar? Also, would you like cream?’ the waiter asked. 

‘Um, no. No cream. And brown sugar, please,’ Ammet said miserably.

The waiter threw him a – well, almost a smile, Ammet supposed, although a pretty condescending one – and went back to the bar. From his seat near the end of the room Ammet could only see parts of the bar. He could only guess from the movements of shadows that both the waiter and the barista – odd looking girl with hair dyed all colours of the rainbow – worked pretty hard. The rush hour was in its peak as most people dropped by the café on their way home… Which reminded Ammet that his break was rapidly passing over. He sighed and scowled at the office building across the street. Fucking ecology, he thought bitterly. Who gave a shit about those crickets or whatnots, they should just go and start the works on the new estates and be done with it. Fucking refunds could possibly bankrupt them. But did his idiotic boss care…? Sure as hell not, and Ammet was just about done with thinking and almost stood up to go back to work and tell his boss what he thought of him when his order was slammed right in front of him. 

He might have jumped in his seat. Just a little. 

‘Double espresso with brown sugar,’ his waiter said, ‘and an extra murder cookie,’ he added while placing porcelain dish in front of Ammet. The cookie was all black, shaped like a solid brick. With sprinkles on it. 

‘Oh,’ Ammet said, ‘Thank you very much. Wait – why is that a murder cookie?’ 

‘Well, technically because it allows you to cut through it to your heart’s desire. Some people claim because you could kill somebody with it,’ the waiter shrugged, ‘Your choice. Enjoy it, anyways. Judging by the look on your face you need it.’ 

‘Oh,’ Ammet said again. Honestly, he snapped at himself, can’t you do better? 

‘Thank you very much for it, then.’ So much for better. 

‘You’re welcome,’ the waiter answered politely, his dark eyes roaming Ammets form. Suddenly, the waiter smiled and asked, ‘What exactly you were imagining?’ 

‘A meteor shower on my boss. Or something along the lines. Though a meat grinder could be fun, too,’ Ammet answered immediately. And he was rewarded – the waiters smile grew wider. Ammet frantically searched his memory for anything witty or memorable to say when the waiter actually sat in the seat before him, extended his hand and said, ‘How nice to meet someone with similar tastes.’ 

‘Oh, yes,’ Ammet smiled and returned the handshake, ‘I’m Ammet, by the way.’ 

‘I’m Khaba.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smooth like sandpaper Ammet


	6. Water lily

Why did humans constantly wanted to spend time beside ponds and other such basins? Were there any real health benefits? If yes, then they must be deeply hidden – I’ve never observed any 1. Humidity and mosquitoes, that’s the only two things one can find beside a pond. Frogs, sometimes. Or snakes. And crocodiles, however these appear only in sacred ponds and this one had nothing sacred about it 2. 

Despite all my protestations and propositions of places better suited for afternoon’s leisure filled with intelligent conversation or philosophical divagations, Ptolemy just waved a dismissive hand at me and said, ‘Stop whining, Rekhyt. If you don’t want to assist me you’re free to go. Just don’t get into fights that end up overturning granaries.’ 

Unbelievable. If I didn’t go with him how would this afternoon turn enlightening to him? And how would he made his way back home3? I went with him, of course, ignoring Ptolemy’s attempts to cheer me up. Of course, he would claim he didn’t try to do such thing – he’s just thought about something I might know about, like irrigation of fields or changing the river’s flow. I was a black cat today, sleek and elegant, sauntering proudly before Ptolemy. We left the rooms he lived in, passed the courtyard full of fruit trees and emerged at the side of mostly shadowed water basin. The architect thought of lining the pond of papyrus’ reeds, undoubtly to create a ‘natural effect’. As I previously said: mosquitoes. Lots of them. Ptolemy, however, seemed to be untroubled as he lied at the trimmed mat he took with him. 

I swished my tail around and planned to search for imps or foliots in the reeds – just for exercise, of course – when Ptolemy suddenly said, ‘Could you sit here with me, Rekhyt? There is something I would like to try to do.’ 

His voice for serious as when he headed onto a new project. If anybody asked me, the kid didn’t know when to stop with all that work. 

‘Is it another one of your reverse pentagram ideas?’ I asked with haughty voice and an aloof look. That last one was easy, as cats look pretty aloof by default. 

‘No,’ Ptolemy answered, looking rather thoughtful, ‘This is more… personal.’ Well, this definitely sounded interesting. The kid lived almost like a monk4 with his constant disregard for earthly goods. I wasn’t very particularly fond of them either, but I was a djinni of air and fire, therefore earth is just not my style. 

Ptolemy had a few empty papyri with himself, and a writer’s palette as well. I assumed he’d be interested in taking notes5, but he placed the papyri in front of himself and looked searchingly at me. ‘Hm,’ he muttered, ‘I suppose it does look good…’ 

‘I am indeed known for my outstanding beauty as well as wisdom across the world,’ I said, trying to convey an aura of intimidation. I might have failed as it’s hard to pass as such that as a cat. ‘However, even I in my infinite knowledge cannot figure why did you have to drag us out to this swamp to observe that.’ 

‘You complain too much,’ Ptolemy said with an amused tone, ‘I didn’t knew you were so famous across the world. Would you tell me all about it? Please,’ he added while mixing powders for his inks, ‘I find the atmosphere here very calming… and I find your form indeed very beautiful. That is why I chose you for my model today.’ 

‘Model?’ I said. Definitely not squealed. Respectable djinn don’t squeal, even in cat shapes. 

‘Oh yes,’ Ptolemy said, ‘You and those water lilies,’ he pointed to the pond. Yes, there were water lilies in bloom there. 

‘We are here so you may try your strength at art?’ 

‘Yes,’ his dark eyes were positively sparkling when he said this. I wanted to return with something snide but with his warm gaze upon me I thought… for moment I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to simply spend a lazy afternoon beside a pond. With water lilies. 

_______

1And my sense of perception is high, I must humbly note.

2Although, one could wonder what made the allegedly sacred ones sacred. Have any of you ever smelled a pond full of crocodiles? There’s nothing holy about it.

3Just to be clear. I was mostly sure that Ptolemy wasn’t, in fact, an idiot like most of you humans. But he suffered from bad case of temporary amnesia. He often forgot to do anything but read… Once I heard an amusing tale of an afrit who had a similar problem, however I’m almost absolutely certain it was a sham. Did afrits even know how to read?

4And a real one, at that. I knew quite a lot of priests talking about humility for the masses. Strangely enough, some of them had courts richer than most kings.

5Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive but only ironically


End file.
